City of Wonder
by Atren Graves
Summary: Poor, dear Alice. Slipping through the cracks again. Your friends and fiends, your Wonderland, we don't believe in fates and fortunes. For all that yours seem particularly grim...well, you've overcome worse. (A mad girl stumbles from one world to another, and somehow manages to make a friend.)
1. Chapter 1

__A/N: Cleaning up and reposting some snippets and bits from my writing thread over on Spacebattles, starting with one of the more recent things. More info will be in my profile (at some point).

This is marked as a Young Justice crossover, but will probably incorporate ideas and/or characterizations from other DCAU things. Just a heads up.

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If there's one thing that I never once expected, it is that I find myself in a place wholly unfamiliar.

Now, that isn't to say that I'm surprised. After all, for one who experiences the unexpected so often as I do, surprise becomes a rather rare commodity. One that I would prefer to save for more interesting things than this.

A city...a city that stretches into the sky, even more dark and grim than old London town...but it isn't _my_ Wonderland, no, that I can tell immediately. Though I feel the lightness of spirit that often accompanies my jaunts down the rabbit hole, and I wear the garb of this city like I do any realm beneath...this place is far too _real_. And far too _dull_.

"Oh, but a city such as this is never truly dull, child."

I turn, feeling no small irritation at the condescending tone. "Cat. How... _lovely_ to see you again."

His grin is as wide as ever, tail thrashing in obvious amusement. "Is it _really_?"

"Of course!" I smile with the ease of practice, and look up at the clouded sky. "Why, your presence adds an agreeable sense of the macabre to _any_ delirium."

"Ah, but you aren't delirious, Alice." He chides, rising to his feet to pad toward me, curling around my legs in an unsurprisingly feline way. "At least, no more so than usual...no, you've simply fallen through the cracks."

"I don't well like falling, Cat."

His chuckle hovers in the darkness, and I turn to watch him continue down the alleyway. "Though you do it so _very_ well." I huff, and move to follow, turning my attention to the buildings again. "Surely you're wondering at how you've brought yourself _out_ of Wonderland without leaving Wonderland _behind_."

"Idle curiosity does me no good...didn't you teach me that yourself?"

"No, you silly girl. I only ever told you that curiosity should never _be_ idle. Surely you can understand the distinction."

Is it any surprise that I chafe at the scolding? "Well, when you put it so very clearly, how could I not?"

"Indeed."

He stops again, tail curling around his paws. Such a silly Cat, forcing me to play by the rules, when nobody else seems to follow them. "Where am I, then? If not London, or Wonderland...where have I gotten myself this time?"

"Oh, it's a terrible place, Alice." He croons, a soft purr rumbling in his throat. "In our Wonderland, we all think in blue and orange. In your London, people hardly _think_ 't all." Those sickly yellow eyes of his turn to me again, burning in the shadows. "Here, Alice, the people _do_ think. They see the darkness, and the evils of the world, and those that do not _revel_ in them do nothing to stop them."

"Well, that doesn't sound very pleasant at all." I frown, a new caution bumbling like a busy bee about my brain. "What am I doing here, then?"

"You always were a bit slow. It really isn't a surprise that it was the end of you." Cheshire grins again, his ears laying back. "Or very nearly, at least...with your mind falling apart and those outside looming as they so often do, we _all_ had to make a decision."

I don't like the sound of this one. "And who are 'we'?"

"Wonderland." His amusement is gone. "Only you could save Wonderland, Alice...but you were so lost that only Wonderland could save _you_. So that is _exactly_ what we did."

"...thank you." It's the most I can offer, surprised by his obvious care. Even if it masks self-preservation. "But I'm afraid I still don't understand how...or why...I'm _here_."

His tail flicks again, and just like that he's grinning. "That, Alice...is a mystery for _you_ to solve."

And without so much as a goodbye, he disappears. Such an inconsiderate creature.

Ah, well. There's nothing for it, now. I'll need to make a few useful discoveries, at least...nothing else would really be worth the trouble.

So I walk, turn a corner here, and there. These alleys are filthy, years of grime and sludge build up in the stone. Refuse of all sorts litters the place...and I strike upon a rather simple idea to find my bearings.

The newsprint is rather surprising, crisp and clear despite the crumpled paper it's printed on. And the _pictures_...why, if I didn't know better, I'd say I was standing right there.

The 'Gotham Globe', printed on August the first...in the year two thousand and _ten_?

"Surely not..." I frown, feeling my brows knitting above my nose, though I'm not sure what they're attempting to make. "One does not simply _add_ two hundred years to a calendar…"

Cracks...cracks that I fell through. Pulled from Wonderland, and away from Londerland...to find myself _here_ , in a city called Gotham. Why not in another time as well as place? Rip Van Winkle laid down for a nap, only to wake decades after the fact. And though my name is hardly so ridiculous, the story seems similar enough.

What does one do, I wonder, when outside one's own time? Were it the past, I would have some grasp of my place, for though I was never a scholarly girl I did know my history books. But the future? What can be said of tomorrow? Or the next day? And with two hundred years of days to question, how can I possibly assume _anything_?

"Well, I shall simply have to ask." I muse to myself, setting the newspaper aside to continue on my way. "Behave as a traveler in another country, as it were. Though such a strange thing it is, to be taking holiday in the future."

The walls don't respond, unfortunately. Though perhaps it really is for the best. Walls, after all, are often not very bright. Nor the best conversationalists, even when they are.

The alleyway finally ends, and I can't help but feel some amazement. There seem to be footpaths, along the sides of the street, smooth white stone that's been stained with grime. And the street itself...why, it look quite smooth as well, though I suppose such a term is entirely relative...

And even as I watch, a number of enclosed carriages roll by... _entirely_ on their own! Some of them are painted a garish yellow, others gleaming in silver or white, black and red. Each of them rumbles by...rather like a train! Why, they _are_ like trains...automated carriages! How simply marvelous...

So struck, am I, by these strange contraptions, that I very nearly miss the people the walk by, a steady stream of them, one and two at a time. And yet, despite their numbers, I get the sense that this place is empty...and while I cannot judge the hour, simply from the prevalence of _light_ (electric lights, so brilliant that they almost seem like suns in themselves), I would say that it is either very late, or very early.

Does that mean that these crowds will _grow_? It boggles the mind...

Oh, but I'm distracting myself. I truly am _awful_ about that.

I suppose I should find out a bit more about where I am, before all else. That will be the very beginning of learning how best to behave...but what is the best way to go about that? I'm almost certain that simply asking someone would be in poor taste.

My options, then, are quite limited.

It would be preferable, then...to continue moving. I've wandered London in the past...surely this place can't be that different.

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Not three hours later, I realize that it really is.

 _Snicker-snack_ goes the blade, as I part another fool's head from his shoulders. I must say, I'm not used to my opponents _bleeding_ so much, find myself flitting away to avoid another spray of hot red. Revolting.

"Hey!"

"She's over here!"

I turn to see _more_ of them. How many hoodlums _are_ there, here?

Even as I turn to run, the _Cat_ appears to match my pace. "Many more than there are Alice Liddels, I assure you."

"Blasted Cat! Do _not_ try to bully me!" I scramble around the next corner, sacrificing poise for preservation. "I am _very_ much on edge!"

"Purrrfect." His head turns all the way 'round so he can grin at me as he runs...foolish of him, really. "When you're not on edge, you take up too much space."

I huff, and jump, once from the ground, twice from the air, and then with a turn I rise enough to pull myself up the metal balcony.

And then I burst into a swarm of butterflies.

I don't like the feeling. I don't often use this...ability...for more than a move, maybe two...this time, I flitter and fly all the way to the rooftop, nearly _five_ stories straight up.

When I reach the top, I can't help but fall to my knees. I do hate nausea...

"My, Alice. You've grown bold."

"Not so bold that I enjoy this sort of thing." I huff, take a deep breath in to settle my stomach. "What do you want, Cat? If not just to needle me further."

"We both know that _neither_ of us are fans of needles. And I'm rather hurt by your mistrust." He chuckles, the sound velvet and soft. "You don't want to be on edge. That's...fair. But you will need space to take up."

"And I'll assume that you know of such a space?" I finally push myself upright again, wince and wipe my hands on my dark apron. "Otherwise, you'd have little reason to toy with me."

"Oh Alice...you don't know me nearly as well as you believe." I snort, and he grins. "However, in this case you aren't left, and neither will you be leaving. Not far, 't least." He pads toward the edge of the roof, and I follow slowly, look out over the city...toward an old, worn park. "I've found a place, a Wonderland that isn't ours."

Now that certainly is odd. "Another Wonderland?"

"Of a sort." His grin turns to me again. "Like Wonderland, it's only as safe as it wishes to be...and like Wonderland, it does not always accept what isn't of itself. The question you must pose is whether or not you can survive long enough to make friends."

"I'm rubbish at making friends." I sigh, hiccup, and watch as a butterfly flutters from my mouth. "Oh my..." What-? Oh. I roll my eyes, turn to frown at the Cat. "Am I to follow the pretty little insect, Cheshire?"

He chuckles again, and fades away. I just turn to watch the flicker of blue. A running leap carries me over the street. A skip off of the empty air takes me to the edge of the park. My skirts flare as they catch the air, and I glide down inside the tall fence...

I can hear only the wind as it crackles through the trees, dried, bare branches rustling ominously. It's all very precious of them.

The butterfly leads me onward, so I move in the darkness. Darkness too deep to be anything but the middle of the night. I suppose I should have noticed that before, but I _was_ fairly busy...

After some time, I find myself standing in front of a door, its hooked handle hanging loose...broken, actually. Poor thing. I pull, lightly, to open the door, step inside and pull it closed again.

Oh... _oh_ , it's _warm_. I hadn't realized, but I'd taken a chill outside. My ears and nose feel overly warm, now, my fingers itching...I really must learn to pay more attention to such things. It wouldn't do at all to become frostbitten because I was distracted.

There's a flicker of blue. The butterfly, leading me deeper. _Further down the rabbit hole, dear Alice._ I pad forward until I reach a pair of swinging double doors...there's a small switch, and the butterfly alights on it before vanishing in a puff of blue.

Well then. That's a surprisingly clear message.

I reach out and turn it _on_. With a click, and a flicker, electric lights beyond the doors come to life. Lovely! Warmth _and_ light!

And when I push through the doors, an even better surprise... _life_. My first breath smells of living plants and warm earth. It's so clean, and natural...I'm reminded of _home_.

When was I last reminded of home in a way that didn't involve fire and screaming?

How very odd.

It's so _green_ inside, plants growing absolutely _everywhere_...the walls and ceiling gleam in the light. Glass...a greenhouse! It's a greenhouse, in a park!

I walk, carefully down the closest aisle...blink as something moves. A moving plant.

Something else moves. Tendrils along the floor...I'll admit, I yelp as my feet are pulled from under me, leaving me to land on the floor in a perfectly undignified manner...only to be dragged beneath a table and into another aisle.

Suddenly, I'm hanging upside down by my ankle, and only quick thinking keeps my skirt from falling down around me. I blink, at the large...plant...in front of me, its spiny 'teeth' and gaping maw. I rather think it's attempting to intimidate me. But really, it's just _cute_.

Holding my skirt it place with one hand, I manifest my croquet mallet in the other, and with a single, sharp motion...I bop it lightly on the 'nose'.

" _I_ am _not_ edible!"

It freezes, its jaws clamping shut. After the initial shock has worn off, it hisses, opens wide...

So I bop it again. And again it recoils, whimpering like a scolded puppy.

"Put me down." I huff, with all the injured grace I can muster. And, much to my surprise, it does exactly that, setting me down gently enough that I'm able to regain my feet without much trouble at all. Its vines recoil, wrapping around itself...oh, the poor dear. I'm a _stranger_! Why, it wouldn't know me from a common sneak-thief or burglar!

"I'm sorry to be so forceful." I smooth out my skirts (again), and let the mallet fade into nothingness. "But you really shouldn't just drag a guest around, no matter how they may arrive."

It shifts, the bulbous 'head' tilting as it...listens, apparently. I watch it for a moment, then sigh, pad forward two steps so that I can reach out to pat it. "I'll assume that you're apologetic...or some plant equivalent thereof...so, naturally, I forgive you!" When it perks at that, I settle my hands on my hips. "But don't ever do it again, or I shall be quite cross."

Imagine my surprise when it nods. A plant, of all things! Now I understand why Cheshire called this a Wonderland. Oh, and he did say I must make friends...

"However, I must apologize as well." I finally offer. "The truth, you see, is that I'm rather lost...and it's quite cold, you understand. And it is only my nature to find a place where I need not be cold and lost. A place that's...safe." I pause, and consider. "Is this place safe?"

It seems to think on that, for several long moments...before shaking its head. I blink, at that...sigh as I realize my mistake. Of course it's not 'safe'. What place is? Especially a place with giant plants who are apparently perfectly fine with the idea of eating people.

"May I stay in any case?" A pause, and I reach up to tap my chin. "And may I call you Mr. Nibbles?"

It nods, after a moment, followed by a slight rustle of its vines and a shake of its head.

"Oh...Miss, then?"

Again, it nods. I smile. "Well then, Miss Nibbles...would you mind if I did a little exploring?"

A no. My smile grows, and I bow low. "My thanks, then."

The vines follow me, as I pad through the aisles, examining this and that. These plants truly are amazing things, many of them beautiful and exotic...I have to stop for almost five minutes, just to examine the truly amazing roses, such a deep red they seem painted in blood.

A few of them react to my presence, swaying or pulling in on themselves. One even chirps at me. And there's an apple tree, in the very back, so small, but bearing perfect apples...I ask as nicely as I can, if it might part with one. And I'm delighted when a single fruit drops from the branch and into my waiting hands.

It's a lovely meal, and I eventually move back to Miss Nibbles, rubbing at my eyes with my cleaner hand. "I believe it would be best if I got some rest...shall I turn the lights off, again?"

She nods, so I traipse to the doors, find a switch just inside them. When the room is plunged into darkness, I make my way back to the largest of the plants by memory alone. I may be _mad_ , but my memory is impeccable.

...well, it is _now_ , in any case.

The floor is rather hard, and rough...but there's a perfectly present coil of vines nearby, so I pull them toward me and form from them a _pillow_. Functional perseverance is an awful thing, really. So limiting.

Those vines shift a bit, but then fall still. And it's comfortable enough...

I drift off into sleep, and strangely enough, I don't dream.


	2. Chapter 2

I hit my head, as the floor is pulled out from under me.

I don't like getting hit in the head; tend to avoid it altogether, when I can. But now I'm dizzy, and it would seem that I'm upside down again. Hanging from my ankle. Again.

And my skirts! Oh, how _mortifying_. I struggle to press them back down...up. Down. It _seems_ to be down...

"Miss Nibbles!" I snap, my voice cracking with sleep. "I _know_ we spoke about this sort of behavior!"

"Where should I even _begin?_ "

Oh, that's a new voice.

I blink away the bleariness as I'm turned around, look down to look up and see...a woman. And a _strange_ woman, at that. Red haired and eyes as green as the plants around us. Her skin is pale, very pale...with its own tinges of green. It's very easy to see, as well, considering her state of dress. Or 'undress' rather. Just what sort of company have I found myself in?

"Most choose beginnings." I find my voice again (the fickle thing). "And though I must say that middles have served me best, ends are often easiest to work with."

She folds her arms and eyes me suspiciously. "Then we'll work backwards. Why are you asleep in _my_ greenhouse?"

Backwards it is. "Time the at, choice best the...seemed it." I shrug. "Doors of out, is...it than, here...warmer rather it's!" Aha!

Confusion in her expression, replacing the suspicion. "...what?"

And I frown, my brow furrowing. "I thought we were working backwards?"

Her mouth opens, closes...and she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Wh...no. _No_." She growls, an angry sort of sound. " _Who_ are you?"

Oh yes, of course. "How rude of me!" I adjust myself as best as I can...I'm hardly in a position to curtsey, but perhaps a handshake will do? "I'm Alice Liddell. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She stares at my hand with obvious bemusement, while I stare at her in hidden amusement. A few moments pass and she makes no move to match, so I lower my hand again.

"What are you doing here?"

A reasonable question, I suppose. "I'm lost. Quite lost indeed, and while I wouldn't _think_ to complain about it, I'm left with quite a few problems. Chief among them being shelter." I smile again, and with a shift start myself swinging a bit more. "A warm greenhouse is far preferable to a night in the cold. And the plants are very welcoming."

She frowns again, but now it's thoughtful. "Are they?"

"Oh yes. Miss Nibbles was quite nice about it all, once I explained my plight. And the apple-tree was kind enough to offer me supper." Another twist of my hips, and now I'm moving in little circles. I _do_ believe I'm going a little light-headed. "And your roses are simply divine! I've rarely seen their like."

"I'm very proud of them." Something I don't recognize in her tone, and she gestures to her side. I blink as I'm lowered again, get my hands beneath me so that I can sit up right away. My vision flashes...my, all of the blood must have been drowning my brain. "Do you feel sick? Nauseous?"

I consider myself, and despite the slight dizziness I'm otherwise alright. "No, I think I'm quite alright." I blink as my vision clears, turn my head to look up at her again. "Should I not be?"

She's watching me now...the sort of penetrating gaze that I normally associate with an unfamiliar dog. "My babies' pollen tends to be rather poisonous."

Oh, no wonder she wondered. I stand, find myself rather glad that my clothing is repairing itself as it does in Wonderland. "I've found that I've been difficult to poison, since I ate Caterpillar's toadstool." I reach up to feel at the slight bump on the back of my head...pause, as I realize the trouble. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be an inconvenience. But it isn't something I have any great control over, you see..."

Again, she looks bemused. "You're apologizing for...not dying?"

"I suppose I am." A bit daft, I'll admit. "How odd it must be! Someone skulking in your greenhouse, sleeping with your plants, and then apologizing for not dying!"

More staring. I'm quite used to it by now, of course, and use the time to ply my own curiosity. "As I said, I'm a bit lost?" A slight pause, and I frown. "This is Gotham City, I know that much, but the wider picture escapes me...am I to take it we're in America?"

"...yes." She's still frowning, though by now her hostility seems to have faded to almost nothing. "You didn't know?"

"I'd _assumed_." I rock on my heels. "I must say, it's rather _exciting_. This must be the furthest I've ever had cause to travel." Stillness, for a moment, and I move on with my questioning. "Forgive me for asking, miss...but do all those who garden, here, look as you do? Or...dress, quite so...provocatively?"

"I'm something of a singular case." _Surprise_ again. Quite interesting. "...and it's Doctor. Doctor Pamela Isley."

A woman doctor? Strange indeed. "Isley..." And such a strange name? Why does it seem so strange? _Because it rhymes with_ -

"Isley...Isley...wrapped in Ivy." I laugh, the dizziness having decided to return with a vengeance, it seems. "It grows in her garden fair..." I twirl on my toe, my skirts flaring out. "Ivy, Ivy, covered Isley, the one with the crimson hair!"

The last is sing-songed, and I grin as I face her again. "Admittedly not my best attempt at poetry...I can't say I've got the hearts for it, though everyone else seems to." I sigh, and offer a less alarmingly wide smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Isley."

"...right." A pause, and I see gears turning behind her eyes. "You said your name was Alice?"

I nod.

"From Wonderland?"

What? "You know about my Wonderland?"

It seems I've confirmed something, because she groans and presses a hand to her face. "Did Tetch send you? What does that madman want now?"

Just what did I do to inspire such mistrust! Besides the breaking and entering, of course. "I haven't been _sent_ by anyone...though I will admit to some guidance, in finding this place." Though it might be better to simply address the particulars. "May I ask who Tetch is?"

When she looks at me again, it's with that annoying expression that the sane seem to save for those they believe not to be. "No, I don't suppose you'd know his name...the 'Mad Hatter'. Is he the one that brought you here?"

Hatter? Hatter isn't named Tetch. "I haven't seen Hatter since I helped him pull himself back together again. Though I find myself curious as to how _you_ know him. He's never left my Wonderland...not even for tea!"

There's a long moment of silence, and she eyes me carefully. "Describe him."

"Hatter?" I consider that for a moment, glance up at the glassy ceiling. "Well, with his hat, he wouldn't hardly fit in here with us...he's always been tall, and rather spindly...it's gotten worse, of course, since he decided to replace his limbs with clockworks."

Oh, now she's most definitely staring. "Jervis Tetch...the Mad Hatter...is as tall as me, hat and all." A pause, and I feel more than see the vines creeping around my feet. "And as far as I'm aware, he's flesh and blood."

Hmm. "Perhaps..." And here, I become as lucid as I can. "Perhaps I'm far more lost than I'd thought."

Silence.

"Dr. Isley? Would you believe me if I told you that at my last remembering, the year was 1875?"

"No."

I smile, despite myself. "I suppose, were I in your position, I wouldn't believe it either. But then, I'm mad. Past a cure. Terminal condition, you see."

Still, she stares. I tilt my head to consider my...options. "Will you at least accept that I'm well and truly out of place as well as mind? And that I was _led_ here...following furry creatures into dark holes seems to have become a habit of mine." I pause, as that thought settles, nibble at a nail. "I hope it's not a _vice_..."

She rolls her eyes, so dismissive of my concerns. "So you're lost, and obviously delusional...do you have a reason why I shouldn't feed you to my babies?"

Ah? "Why, I believe that was a threat...I don't well enjoy those. 'Reckless or insulting talk should _never_ go unchallenged', don't you know? And is that truly how you treat your guests?"

"Some of them." She trails her fingers through the air, and I take note of the way the vines rise up around me. "I suppose you _are_ more interesting than some...that might earn you a reprieve."

I eye those creeping things carefully...but I suppose it could be worse. They could be _meat_. And Miss Nibbles is, hopefully, friendly enough. "I'm not very used to reprieves. I suppose it would be a novel experience."

"Mmm." She tips her head, still considering. "So, you're Alice...out of your Wonderland?"

"Into yours, rather." Such a thing. "And as I said before, it really is quite lovely. I've never been to someone else's Wonderland before, but I'm sure this would be among my favorites."

"Flattery?" She arches a brow. "I can't say it's the best I've heard. But my darlings do seem to have taken a liking to you as well, so I suppose it must be genuine." Well, that bodes well indeed. "And I'll admit that your immunity to my toxins is...intriguing."

Hmm. That _doesn't_ bode so well. "I have little patience, _Doctor_. And neither will I be yours." My friendly demeanor shifts into something sharper...sharp like the blade that finds itself in my hand. "I've had enough of others toying with me, mind and body alike."

The vines shift back, toward her. Defensive, I note, rather than hostile. "You certainly _are_ full of surprises." A pause, and she reaches out to rest a fond hand on the closest of them. "If it eases your mind at all, I'm not that sort of doctor."

A likely story. Still, I relax my grip. Test the edge of my knife with a fingertip. "Who are you, really, to speak so plainly of killing me? I know well how creeping and subtle madness can be...and how quickly it can turn to hysteria."

There's a long moment of silence. "I suppose that many would say I'm less than sane." Such an easy admission that was. "I prefer to think of myself as...driven."

"I would much prefer to be the driver."

She laughs, much to my surprise. "Should've expected something like that...but no, the question isn't _who_ does the driving, but _what_. _What_ drives me." She considers me for another moment, then sighs, waving plants away as easily as she'd first called them to her. "And it's nothing that _you_ need to be concerned about. For the moment." Her smile is not nearly as comforting as I should think she means it to be. "That's an interesting toy."

"It's not a toy." I clutch it closer, pout pathetically. "It's my Vorpal Blade."

"Does it go 'Snicker-snack'?"

And just how does she know _that_ , then? The same way she knows my wonderland, I should think. "It does..."

"Tell me about it, won't you?"

And that...is how I find myself in _conversation_ , of all things. A pleasant little _chat_ ; I with my varied and eclectic selection of weaponry, she with her quite astounding stories of the advance of the sciences.

(I'm utterly delighted to discover she finds lobotomy as barbaric a practice as I do, and that here, in the twenty-first century, what I know as an 'insane asylum' has been replaced by...something so much less horrible.)

After many more of these shocking revelations regarding the latest advancements in society, the good Doctor (a _good_ Doctor!) leaves me to entertain Miss Nibbles while she investigates the rest of her greenhouse. It would seem that she's been away for some time, now...her worry is unsurprising.

I know that I worry about my Wonderland quite often. And though that worry is, sometimes, outweighed by greater concerns, I will always return to it. So I _can_ say I understand.

"You say that you need a place to stay?"

She's considering me again. She seems to do that quite often...quite a considerate person she must be, then. I'm almost certain that it's a personality trait, rather than something particular to me.

"May I assume that you are offering?"

"I might be." She folds her arms again, eyes challenging. "I told you that I'm a wanted fugitive?"

"You framed it much more kindly, I assure you." I allow myself a faint smile. "By which I do mean that I understand the matter, to some extent or another."

That earns me a slow nod, and I turn my cards over in one hand. Miss Nibbles had been enjoying the way they burst in tiny explosions...

Dr. Isley is frowning, again, fingers drumming on a wide leaf as she picks her words. "Gotham is home to quite a few... _similar_ individuals. And many of them operate with...help." _Ah_ , I do think I see where this is going. Judging by her expression, she knows that I know. Which means I know she knows I know, and, by extended logic, that...

"-are you paying _any_ attention at all?"

I startle out of my haze, disappear my cards as my face heats. "I'm sorry...my mind so often gets away from me, and it's a terrible bother to catch it again."

She makes an irritated sound, low in her throat, and I sit up all the more straight, to signal my readiness to listen and learn. Her sigh is one of long-suffering patience which is instantly recognizable to me.

"Look...I'll be _damned_ if I'll let Tetch sink his claws into you. And I had been considering taking someone a bit more _permanent_ on."

"You would like me to work for my room and board, then?" I smile, and stand myself up. "I can't say I've ever had the highest opinion of the police, and your particular sort of wonderland really is more appealing than that awful city outside."

She looks a little predatory, smirking down at me. I'll simply _have_ to assert my unwillingness to bend to manipulations at some point in the future. "Nothing complicated, to begin with. A few 'errands' that someone of my particular infamy might find difficult. Once I'm certain you can be trusted to follow simple instructions...well, that's a bridge we'll cross when we come to it, hmm?"

"Oh, as long as we're well prepared for trolls."

Her smirk becomes a grin. "I think we'll do just fine."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Last one of these for a bit. Just FYI

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I learn quite a bit more about gardening than I would have expected, in the days that follow. Speaks more to my expectations than anything else. In any case, Doctor Isley takes the time to be certain I'm capable of taking care of her 'babies' before leaving me to the work in order to check on her 'other properties'. How a fugitive from the law goes about owning _multiple_ properties I just don't know, but I suppose I can chalk it up to this strange new time.

 _Time_ travel. Of all things.

Caring for the garden is a refreshingly straightforward task, though certainly not lacking in its own perils. The plants must be fed and watered properly, and several of them must be trimmed, all of which is entirely mundane. But given that I'm feeding many of them strange concoctions or small animals, that many of them fuss and struggle against being trimmed, and that even the trimmings themselves must be handled so carefully…

"You were never the sort for busy-work before, Alice." Cheshire grumbles one day, as I go about the job. "This is very unlike you."

I scoff, and step aside just in time to avoid a puff of mouldy-smelling dust. Chastise the bud that loosed it with a sharp rap from my pruning shears. "Really, cat, you could hardly call this 'busy-work'." A _snip snip snip_ , and I come away with a handful of still-twitching vines, caustic sap hissing softly as it rolls off the leafy surface of my gloves. "Think of it as a daily dose of adventure. Mild, of course, but I could certainly do with a bit more of that, couldn't I?"

He grumbles, but concedes the point. Something that I know he absolutely detests. "The quiet _is_ offering us a reprieve we desperately need. We're _rebuilding_ , you know."

It's some of the better news I've had in some time, and I smile brightly. "Really? How lovely…"

And then he's gone again, and I'm left to continue my work. I feel all the better for it.

So it goes until the beginning of my second week in Gotham, when Doctor Isley returns in high spirits. She takes the time to ensure I've not made any unforgivable blunders and, finding my work sufficient, offers her compliments. They even sound genuine! It's been...a long time, I think, since I've heard that sort of thing, and it leaves me feeling lighter than air.

"I need a few things picked up." She tells me, once my feet are back on the ground ( _terribly_ embarrassing, that). "If you think you'd be up to the challenge, it would be a good...learning experience."

Something I _am_ in need of. A week indoors has hardly aided me in adjusting to the world at large. "I'll certainly try my best."

"Of course you will." There's a dark sort of confidence in her tone, as she leads me out of the greenhouse. I choose to interpret it as being certain of _my_ abilities, and not any sort of subtle warning or implied threat. The wonders of a malleable mind.

Outside, there sits one of those 'cars'. A man as well, a stranger in a while coat that jumps when he sees us. Or rather, when he sees Doctor Isley. His besotted expression makes my skin crawl.

"Johnathan, dear." I goggle at my employer's suddenly _scandalous_ tone, as she _stalks_ up to him. And he...no, no longer 'besotted', the man looks like he's out of his _head_. High as the clouds. "This is my friend, Alice. Say hello."

He blinks stupidly for a moment before turning to me. "Hello, Alice."

"Alice is going to be your assistant today, Darling." She straightens his coat for him, pats his cheek. "She'll make sure you get _everything_ off of that little list I gave you. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, no, not...not at all."

Doctor Isley chuckles, softly, as she returns to my side, her voice dropping to a murmur. "I've 'bewitched' him very thoroughly. I'll be surprised if he lasts another day. But for now, he'll be quite useful in retrieving some important chemicals for me. With a little prodding."

"Which would be where I come in, I take it?"

" _Exactly_." She grins. "Play the dutiful assistant, make sure he stays focused. And of course, make sure he doesn't _slip_ and mention anything suspicious."

All reasonable enough. Although, if I'm going to be _his_ assistant, I'll need to look the part...at my waist, Hollow Yves shivers. Shimmering light turns broad, green leaves to starched and subdued cotton.

" _And I told myself I_ wasn't _going to ask…"_

"I do have _one_ question," I say, carefully adjusting the high collar of my shirtwaist. "Are you a witch, as well as a doctor?"

There's a long moment of silence...and then she sighs, and shakes her head. "I'll explain later." Well that's not very helpful. But then, there's no harm in waiting. Especially if there's business to be done.

"Very well." I turn to Johnathan, offer what I hope is a friendly smile. "Shall we be off, then?" He nods agreeably but says nothing, still...well, _dazed_. A bit concerning. "Is he fit to operate this contraption?"

"He'll be fine."

"It's just, he seems a bit... _off_."

"He _is_ , but he can still-" Doctor Isley cuts off, closes her eyes, and takes a moment to collect herself. "Johnathan will retrieve the things I need, you will assist him. Try not to draw attention to yourself, don't annoy any clowns, and if worst comes to worst, tell anyone who threatens you that you're under Poison Ivy's protection."

Well, it seems a bit odd to claim the protection of a pla...wait just a moment.

" _Poison Ivy?"_

She ignores the question, points at the car. "Try to be back by tonight." And without so much as a proper 'goodbye', she disappears back into the greenhouse. That just leaves me with a worryingly distracted thrall and a job that needs doing.

"Perhaps spending all my time tending the plants wouldn't be so terrible." Nothing for it, though. "Come along, Johnathan. We'd best be off."

"Oh...yes, yes. Of course."

And off we go.

* * *

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* * *

I learn quite a bit, during that little outing to 'GothCorp'. Street traffic is just as tedious in an automobile as a cab. Bewitching is easily confused for distracted genius. 'Modern' companies are incredibly lax in who they will furnish with volatile chemicals. And, finally, I am entirely unprepared to strike out on my own.

" _Troublesome_ thing, what have I-?"

"To market, to market, Alice dear."

Yes, of course, I- "I knew that." I nudge Cheshire away, frown at the so-called 'tablet'. "So free with your help, but only ever when it's unwanted." The 'home button'. Except not even _that_ is enough to bring the pictures back. "Johnathan, I've botched it agai-" Oh, no, he's dead. I really should try to keep that in mind…

"Alice?"

And my employer has decided to investigate the vehicle pulled in beside her greenhouse. I suppose I had gotten a bit distracted.

"Neglecting your duties already. Tsk tsk."

"I'll have none of that from a cat too shy to speak to strangers." The evil smile disappears at last and, with a bit of fumbling, _I_ find my way out of the car. "Doctor Isley! I've brought the shopping!" She gives the body slumped halfway out the driver's door a pointed look. "...with a bit of misfortune. I believe witchery didn't agree very well with Johnathan's constitution."

The Doctor gives a dark little laugh, a prickling sort of thing. Or would that be 'feverish'? More likely 'rosy', given her hair, but there _are_ times variety-

"Alice." Oh, she's looking put-upon again. Doesn't seem terribly impressed when I put on my most professional airs. Nor when I do as I'd seen at Johnathan's workplace, tapping away at my 'tablet' and looking busy. "If you're finished, I'd like to take stock. _Especially_ if my chemist has already expired."

Yes, of course. Perfectly understandable. "We'll be about it, then." As soon as I work out how to open the trunk again.

* * *

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* * *

I do not, to my relief, have to resort to my hobby horse. Instead, I'm treated to a rudimentary explanation of chemistry as it relates to the function of living things. And bit of heavy lifting. Being honest, I'm more comfortable with the latter. Though I do appreciate being included.

Of course, then there's the business of Johnathan, which is another matter entirely.

"Pheromones," Doctor Isley explains, "are chemicals produced and released by animals of all kinds, which have an effect on others of their species." She guides the vines a little further along, and I pass the body off readily. They seem to have an easy time of moving it than I did. "Humans produce them too, but their effects are negligible, to say the least."

That _is_ an interesting bit of trivia. I suppose we'll just not be addressing the corpse being drawn into the flower beds? Hmm. "Many Snarks are feathered, a few have fur, but _some_ Snarks are Boojums."

"...we're not sharing. I'm explaining things you need to be aware of."

Yes, of course. "And you have my attention, Doctor."

Seems to mollify her. "Good...now, you may have already noticed my unusual physiology."

"I hadn't, particularly."

"I have _green skin_."

"And it's a perfectly fetching shade."

She frowns disapprovingly, but offers no comment. I take the cue for what it is, clear my throat as I pull her seat out. "Pheromones, Doctor Isely?"

"I naturally produce a variety of toxins." she picks up her explanation again, as she sits. "But I can just as easily produce a pheromone-like chemical that's easily aerosolized _and_ induces a wonderfully suggestive state in anyone exposed."

Well, it seems things are coming together, doesn't it? "Johnathan's helpfulness." I suppose it makes as much sense as anything else. "Quite the useful talent, that...do you take sugar? Milk?"

"A bit of...both…" The good Doctor stills, staring down at the teacup in her hand. "...tea."

"I only take tea with friends." My smile is genial, as I scoop the sugar and pour the cream. And while Doctor Isely goes about examining the little table and rickety chairs, I take a moment to fill my own cup, and take a seat. To tap the top-hat centerpiece, activating the ticking, white rabbit that pops up beneath it. "So, Doctor...are you always so casual, twisting the minds of others to suit your ends?"

 _Tick-tick-tick_ goes the clockwork bomb. And she _smiles_. A bitter, rueful thing, easily hidden by her cup as she sips. "So much for 'goodwill'."

"Oh, I certainly appreciate your hospitality thus far. Make no mistake on _that_." In fact, I'd go so far as to say I might _regret_ having to take this course of action. "But I would also like you to understand that when my mentor, a man I trusted, revealed himself to be a murderer and flesh-peddler...why, I rather took offence to it. Pushed him in front of a train, in fact." _Tick-tick-tick_. "He had a terrible habit of warping the minds of those around him. Especially fond of children. You may understand my concerns."

Concerns that I had _tried_ to put aside and ignore. Which is a terrible habit of my own, isn't it? One I'll need to work on. Starting now, and possibly ending some time in the future. Hopefully not too long. The bomb will be going off soon, after all.

The Doctor's cup _clinks_ against her saucer, her eyes on the bomb. She must have reached a similar conclusion, given the timer is facing her. "I...have never gone out of my way to harm a child."

Was I expecting scruples from the criminal madwoman? I should appreciate her honesty, if nothing else. Do I mean to accept this state of affairs, then? I'd already resolved to entertain an arrangement here with the understanding she _is_ a criminal. Will knowing the nature of her crimes make me into a hypocrite?

And what sort of hypocrite will I be? Shall I leave, some crimes being acceptable and others not? Or shall I stay, and put aside my history and experiences on the off chance-

" _Alice._ "

Oh yes, the bomb. Easily dealt with; clockwork screeches and grinds, when I slam the Vorpal blade down through its neck. It sputters, clanks, lets out a sad little whine. But it _doesn't_ explode, even when I withdraw the knife and sweep the whole mess to the floor.

And with all _that_ done, I finally manage to relax. Two spoons of sugar, just a _drop_ of milk. A carefully sip... _ahhh_.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't able to find any snacks. In the future, I'll try to be better prepared."

She doesn't respond for a deceptively long time, which goes without comment, because Hatter is not here (and I shudder to imagine how awkward _that_ might have been). But, eventually? "It was easy enough to procure all the settings, apparently."

It _was_. "I've more tea-sets than I know what to do with." An absurd thought, and I raise a hand to hide my giddy smile. "Even more, lately, with so many Madcaps murdered."

"Mmm."

A companionable silence settles, broken only by the soft chime of chipped china, and the occasional, wet _crunch_ from Miss Nibbles off to our side.

"Let me tell you a story," Doctor Isley says, lifting her cup and saucer to settle back more comfortably in her seat. "About my Botany professor, and how I almost died."

How curious. "Please, do."

So she weaves her tale of seduction and betrayal, of perilous conditions and poisonous revenge. And then myths of bats and birds, and dangerous, smiling things, and how she's crossed paths with all of them at some point or another. I offer what I can, of course. Fair being fair. Our tea grows tepid as we talk of dolls and their makers, but...well.

Good company does wonders.


End file.
